A Day in the life of a Hero
by GhostRider195
Summary: Takes place at the end of the first movie. Delves into Astrid's thoughts post the Red Death Battle. Was the first fanfiction I ever wrote, have gone through and made corrections over time. ONE SHOT


Whoever said "you don't know what you've got til its gone" was really onto something. Its easy to over look something that may seem small and unimportant, but in the blink of an eye, its gone and its unnoticed value was far more than you could have imagined.

But by then its too late and you have to live out your life with the regrets and glorious "what if"'s. And it doesn't have to be just things; sometimes people can seem small and unimportant too.

When you're watching that small and unimportant person take down a dragon the size of your island then disappear in a apocalyptic explosion, it tends to help you see them with new eyes. And maybe, just maybe, that unimportant person meant more than you thought.

As he falls into the flames, a lifetime of memories flash in your vision, highlighting the little things you never knew you appreciated. Like that one time he sharpened you axe for free when you were short, never had a mean thing to say about anyone and would always back quietly out of a disagreement. The way he could turn the other cheek, no matter what was certainly admirable. Maybe he he was small and weak on the outside, but he was stronger than you in a plethora of ways.

Running through the smoke and ash with your heart and most of your other vital organs in your throat, you think of all the times you never said 'thank you' and all the times you chose to ignore his cries for help.

The relief that floods your veins when you hear he's alive shouldn't be so darn sweet. But it is. Thor, it's a second chance. You're laughing and crying uncontrollably, to the point you're certain you're possessed. But at the same time, you can't bring yourself to care. But then your eyes drift down to something so horrific all good feelings are gone in a heartbeat. No one should suffer an injury like that, but especially not him. Why can't it be you unconscious with a destroyed leg? You deserve it.

****************************************  
You hear him screaming, no matter how hard you stuff your fingers in your ears. You know in his current state, he won't remember. But you will. You'll remember the grimy axe, the blood and his Thorforsaken _screaming._ Someone eventually drags you away, despite your resistance and threats. Their console is comforting, but in your state of near insanity, you've no idea who they are.

You carry him home on your dragon, managing to convince them that's yours is the swiftest, even though this isn't strictly true. You'll never admit it, but you feel better when he is within your sights. You drop him off at the healer's, and your glare more than implys what will happen to the Viking if he can't save the boy in your arms.

Your banished from the hut as they start their work, so you take care of his dragon, you know that's what he would want. It helps keep both of you busy. As the days slip by in a blur, you get to know the black beast better than you thought possible. He seems to be the only one as shaken as you. You can't help but see the similarities between rider and dragon. Both as kind and thoughtful as the other.  
Gods, when did _you_ get so sappy?

You stay at his bedside as much as they'll let you, fighting the temptation to grab his hand. All your life you were convinced that any other feeling other than indifference was a trap. You were right, but now that you're "trapped", it isn't that bad. Sure, it's hard, but you never imagined that caring for someone else could feel so _good._

Somehow, the sleepless nights are all worth it when you see he's still breathing the next morning.

You hope he remembers you. You overheard the healer talk of how common it was for such patients to wake up without their own name.  
You decide not to think about it.

He mumbles almost constantly, and despite your best efforts, you can't make out a word. Dejected, you start doing the talking. You tell him about your day, what's going on in the village and how you wish he'd get his act together and wake up.

The chief comes by often to visit his son. And every time he catches your eye, he gives you that infuriating _look._ The kind of look that says " I know something you don't ". Whatever it is, it isn't as obvious as he makes it seem. You roll your eyes.  
Men.  
You attention quickly returns to the pale boy beside you. He's looking sicklier every day. Sure, the healer shoves broth down his throat hourly, but it's not nearly enough. Something tells you that if he doesn't wake up here soon, he'll wake up in Valhalla instead.

You decide not to think about this either.

You walk briskly through the square, dodging random Vikings and dragons. You feel slightly guilty for ignoring your own dragon, but she seems to understand the situation and accepted your apologies graciously. She even was kind enough to wake you up this morning when you overslept. You make a mental note to give her an extra long grooming when all of this is over.

You see the small congregation at his front door and immediately assume the worst. But your fears are washed away when you see the smile on the old chief's face. Could it be? It has to! No one would smile like that if it wasn't. Your legs run the rest of the way without permission, and your relief has you in a daze. You weasel your way through the crowd just in time to hear laughter from some joke you must have missed. You peek around someone's back, and there he is. The subject of all your worries safe and sound, just feet in front of you.

It's impulsive when you slug his shoulder, muttering something about scaring you as an excuse. He protests, but you aren't listening. Maybe it's because you're high on your relief, or perhaps you just want to, but something makes you grab his shirt and slam your lips onto his. Lightening bolts shoot up your spine, and from the way his lips tremble, you imagine he received the same sensation.

It feels like forever, but you know it couldn't have been more than seconds. You pull away first, because something tells you he could very well be about to faint. You look just in time to see his eyelids flutter open dreamily. He grins at you. "I could get used to it." His comment makes you pause. You don't want to get used to it. You always want it to feel as fresh and new as it does right now. And with someone like him, something tells you it will.  
You smile to yourself. No, you'll never get used to this "small and unimportant" person.


End file.
